Previously...
... The girls were shocked and heartbroken at the news of losing their father, since their mother had just told them that daddy was coming home - "
"Turn it off," Liz mumbles, her face pressed into Ressler's stomach. He nods and reached for the controller, cutting off his own voice as he presses the 'off' button. Liz curls closer to him and sighs, and he feels the muscles of his stomach contract as her warm breath washes over him.
"Will this ever end?" she asks, and he doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't say anything. Instead, he runs his fingers through her hair, equal parts trying to calm her and trying to calm his own doubts and uncertainty.
It will. It has to, he thinks as he stands up, pulling Liz with him because it's time for them to go to bed - it's been a long day, and they have to be ready for whatever tomorrow brings.
May 25th, 4:00 PM (Reddington's Safe House)
"At this time, no one knows where Dr. Amador is. According to the Chief of Surgery at King's County Hospital Center in Brooklyn, Dr. Amador left immediately after performing a triple bypass surgery last night, not bothering to finish the rest of his scheduled surgeries. His family hasn't heard from him, and the hospital has had to rush to cover his schedule. This has left many of us at the studio, and I'm sure many others in the city, wondering, are Elizabeth Keen and Donald Ressler right?" The news reporter laughs, and it seems to Ressler like she's enjoying the scandal, which, to be fair, she probably is - she's a reporter, after all. "Only time will tell. We in the studio are eagerly awaiting the next broadcast. In other news..."
Ressler flicked the channel button, yawning as he switched to yet another local news program.
"Dr. Amador has, indeed, been defrauded - whether this is a ploy by Agents Keen and Ressler to make the public trust them before trying sewing conspiracy theories can only be guessed at. But, they were right about Dr. Amador. Offshore accounts link him to a dozen high-ranking officials, whose names will not yet be released. In the meantime, Dr. Amador and those in connection to him have fallen off the radar. Their absence will soon be noticed by the public, as judges, doctors, teachers, and lawyers alike have disappeared, all seemingly connected to Dr. Amador."
Ressler knew they were making progress - slowly but surely - but watching the programs made him sick, anyway.
He's pulled from his thoughts when the other side of the couch depresses. He doesn't have to look up to know it's Reddington, because the man begins speaking almost immediately.
"Sickening, isn't it?" he begins conversationally, and Ressler nods almost imperceptibly. "That so many were involved. We outed Benedict Amador, and 13 others go missing, presumably in hiding. This won't be taken lightly by the Cabal, or forgiven quickly."
"We're well hidden," Ressler comments, because they are. There's little to no chance of their safe house being found. Reddington, resourceful as always, had created the house to be completely of the grid, save for the occasional connections Aram had to make to broadcast their videos. But even then, he had rerouted their connection through hundreds, possibly even thousands, of dummy accounts and bounced their signal all over the globe. If they hadn't been found already, the chances of it happening were slim. He was confident in that, but not so much their ability to actually re-join the community after all was said and done.
Finally, he sighs, because Reddington likely knows what he's thinking, anyway. "Can we ever go back? Even if we take down the Cabal, can we go back to being agents and helping people, or do we hide out the rest of our lives?"
"Well," Reddington begins, and he's grinning so Ressler knows he won't get a straight answer. "You could always just stick with me and Dembe. Rouge agents, saving the world from the shadows. No, I don't think you'll have to hide forever. A while, maybe, to let things die down."
Ressler nods, happier with the answer than he expected to be.
"But, until then, we have work to do. Come on, you and Liz are up," Reddington said, lifting himself from the couch with a flourish. He heads into the kitchen and Ressler follows moments later, resigned and a little eager to see what Aram and Liz have come up with this time.
"A slightly larger target this time," Aram explains as he sits down. "Or, at least, one that will cause global outrage instead of localized. Molly Porter is part of an organization that offers relief to citizens after major disasters. She went international over ten years ago. She works with hundreds of relief organizations, including well-known names like Red Cross, Action Against Hunger, Doctors Without Borders, IMO, IFRC, MCC, the Mercy Corps... it's a long list. She's a part of them all, a temp worker, if you will. She doesn't spend long in one place at any one time, instead she bounces back and forth between organizations as a volunteer. She works in accounting, balancing their books, and she's stolen billions from them, for the Cabal. The reaction to this one will go one of two ways - people will decide you're conspiracy theorists and ignore you, or ... " Aram looks hesitant, his eyes shifting nervously from person to person as he places the case file on the table. "It could get bloody. These organizations will not take this news lightly. They spend their blood, sweat, and tears to help people across the globe, and Molly Porter has been stealing from them for ten years."
Ressler is worn out, mentally and physically, so he doesn't devote much brainpower to Aram's worries. "People are going to get ugly eventually, anyway - that's what we're basing our success on. Fear tactics, played against the Cabal. We need the masses to believe us, because if we give the Cabal time to discredit us, we will lose. We need to convince the public we should be listened to, and we need to do it soon. This is a perfect topic, because it's a case of the rich stealing from the poor, and people hate that. We'll essentially be Robin Hood, but instead of giving he money back, we'll be giving them the person who stole in the first place."
Liz is nodding, staring at Ressler with a small smile on her lips. She's holding a copy of the case file, opening it and motioning him over. He joins her side of the table, and opens his own copy of the file.
Before he can begin reading, Reddington pipes up. "Ms. Porter is, by herself, a small target. The point you need to get across is that she's been stealing money not for herself, but for the others who are a part of this Cabal. You need to tell the public where this money has gone - to line the pockets of those in power, to fund terror all over the world. The whole world needs to feel the ... the injustice. They need to feel disgusted that anyone could do this - especially someone who they trusted."
Ressler nods thoughtfully, and then slaps his file down on the table before standing quickly to his feet. "Aram, I need your internet skills."
"What are you thinking?" Liz asks, closing her file and looking up in interest.
"I'm thinking," he says, and he offers her a cocky grin. "That I need to polish up my powerpoint making skills. I won first place in a debate contest in high school thanks to those skills, you know."
"Powerpoint is ... not cool anymore," Aram offers lamely, and Ressler rolls his eyes.
"Whatever. I'm thinking that people are moved by those crappy commercials, the ones with the sad dog pictures, right? God, I see those everywhere, and women have tears in their eyes and blubber pathetically. So," he says, moving on quickly as Liz shoots him a glare. "We can do the same thing, right? There are horrible, devastating pictures of the disasters these organizations have helped with, you know? They're all over the internet. Doctors Without Borders, that was a huge thing during the Ebola scare. I remember googling Ebola and seeing these... these pictures of people in hazmat suits holding dying children, and that's who Ms. Porter has been stealing from, right?"
Reddington is smiling widely at Ressler, while Liz mulls over his words. "My word, Donald, we may yet make a rogue agent out of you. Fantastic! Aram, let's see what we can do," he says, and Ressler feels himself glowing with pride at Reddington's comment, until he realizes that Reddington never gives a full compliment - only disguised jabs - and wipes the confident grin off of his face. He huffs instead, shrugging his shoulders and walking to look over Aram's shoulder as the man begins his search. Liz is already behind Aram, and bumps Ressler on the shoulder as he approaches.
Good idea, she mouths to him, and he smiles at her, winking, before turning toward the screen.
6:00 PM
Ressler has his body turned away from the screen displaying the pictures they'd searched up earlier, because honestly they're a little hard to look at. Hurricane Katrina, photos from Doctors Without Borders, the World Health Organization... they're a little hard to stomach, which he knows is good, because maybe it will make people stop and look. The plan, he reminds himself, is for him and Liz to talk in front of the screen, using the pictures to drive their point home.
Aram nods, and Ressler sees the red dot indicating they're live. He clears his throat, and looks back at Liz, though his eyes are immediately caught by the picture of a woman crying in anguish, holding the body of her small child.
He can't speak for a moment, and when he does, he knows that he sounds weak, and he hates it, but hopefully his weakness will be put to good use. He sees the steely determination in Liz's eyes mix with the tears she won't allow herself to shed, so he clears his throat, and turns back to the screen.
"This photo is from Doctors Without Borders, during the 2014 Ebola outbreak. During this epidemic, hundreds of doctors walked into a situation they knew could be dangerous - deadly even. They didn't do it for the glory, or the money, but to help people."
The next slide is a picture of a make shift hospital, with hundreds of men, women, and children filling the beds - if they could be called that.
"Thousands of people died. This," he said, as Aram flipped to the next slide. "Is the aftermath of an earthquake in Zhaotong, China, which killed over 600 people. World Vision offered helped to some 133,000 people who were displaced or injured by offering food, clean water, clothes, and a place to sleep."
Aram flips the slide, and Liz takes over. "Closer to home was the chilling tornado in Joplin, Missouri, which was the only tornado in the past fifteen years to make the top ten list of most devastating tornadoes. Once again, organizations like Red Cross and the Salvation Army offered money, food, shelter, and hope to those affected."
"What do they all have in common, you ask?" Ressler breaks in, ignoring the pictures that are now changing rapidly behind him, showing devastation and heartbreak. "A woman named Molly Porter. Ms. Porter has, at one point, worked for many of these relief organizations we've just mentioned. She works in accounting, behind the scenes - a name no one will recognize or take a second look at."
"But what people don't realize, is that while rescuers and volunteers were opening their hearts and homes, Molly Porter was skimming off the top of every donation given, every dollar spent to help people who didn't know where they would sleep, or where their next meal would come from. Molly Porter is a part of this... clandestine organization we've been begging you to accept the reality of. Molly Porter stole a total of 13 billion dollars from these relief funds, and we have the proof. Like with Benedict Amador, we will be sending a copy of these reports to every major news outlet. If you choose to believe us - to believe that our government isn't everything you'd like to believe it is, you have your proof. It's up to you to decide for yourself if it's true."
The camera clicks off, and Ressler breathes a sigh of relief.
Now, to wait.
May 26th, 7:15 PM
" - Reports are flooding in from all over the globe, proof from each relief organization that they have, indeed, had money stolen from them. Some organizations report millions missing, while others only lost a few hundred thousand. Just last night, Molly Porter was caught trying to flee her current job in Maryland, and was shot down by one of the rioters. After being rushed to the hospital, Ms. Porter died in the early hours of the night. A suspect is in custody, but the community is rallying around the man known as Brett Olson, and many bystanders report seeing Olson, unarmed, elsewhere as the shot was taken. It's look as though Olson will not take the fall for his crime. And even if the case goes to court, we at the studio believe they'd be hard pressed to find a jury would would prosecute, however - "
" - Now that Molly Porter's bank records have been made public, it was only too easy to link her to several high-ranking officials. In a shocking turn, the Vice President has been linked to Ms. Porter through campaign funds from the 2012 election. It looks as though Agent Ressler and Agent Keen may be right on this one, but only time will tell how deep the corruption runs."
" - I didn't believe it at first, either, David! But the evidence is too compelling. A doctor found pulling stings for a United Stated Senator, 13 people going missing in the aftermath of that broadcast, a Senator himself gaining his position through murder and deceit, and now this - a woman funding the Vice President's election campaign with money stolen from Doctor's Without Borders in the midst of their efforts to help with the Ebola outbreak. I, for one, am dying to hear more."
"I'm curious as well, Stanley, but also a little afraid for our country. The Vice President. No one saw that one coming."
"No, David, they sure didn't. And I think I can speak for most of the population of the United States when I say, I'm questioning everything I've ever believed about our government and our country. And it's making it hard to sleep at night."
"Too true, Stan. Too true. In other news - "
Liz flicks the TV off, burrowing closer to Ressler as she tries to block out the image of riots, of those - probably innocent - that had been killed during the riots outside Molly Porter's work building, outside the white house.
"We're going to be responsible for World War III," she groans, burying her face in Ressler's side.
"Not true," Reddington pipes up from his position in the doorway. He is grinning, dressed down in a flannel and a pair of pressed slacks. "The devastation caused by our little uprising wouldn't even rate at the bottom of a list of casualties from war. Not yet, anyway," he adds, walking into the room.
"We're making pretty good progress," Ressler notes, motioning toward the TV, where only moments before they had been watching footage from the riots outside the White House. "The President is on lockdown. People broke into the White House. The White House, Reddington. Guards were slaughtered, the first family put in danger. Now, I don't know if the president is dirty or not, but his two children are innocent and people are taking this way out of proportion."
"But that is exactly what we want, dear Donald," Reddington says. "If we want to force the Cabal into hiding, to make them truly fear all that we know and can do, then there is no other way. My journalists have been working hard to uncover this information and to get it to us, the least we can do in honor of their lives - the lives some of them have given in the pursuit of truth - is to give the public that knowledge and let them do with it what they will."
Ressler sighs. "I know. I just don't see how we're going to come out of this. No one will ever trust us again, the FBI, the government."
"Not true," Reddington says again, though he doesn't seem smug or self-righteous this time. Instead, he seems contemplative, twirling his hat in his hand as he speaks. "People want someone to believe in. They always have and they always will. A hero, if you will. And by being the ones to admit all your faults, to be the ones to give them the truth... the people will believe in you, Donald. You and Lizzie. You and Lizzie are the ones fighting against the evil. Just watch, when this is all over, people will come to you, to ask, can we trust this person? And you will - we all will - be responsible for pointing the American people in the right direction."
It's a scary thought, Ressler realizes, being someone's role model. An even scarier thought to be the one an entire country looks up to.
Reddington speaks up once more.
"While we're on that topic," he says, and his irritating cheeriness is back. "I need you and Liz in the kitchen again. It's time to tell the American people a story."
8:13 PM
"My name is Elizabeth Keen, and two years ago I knew nothing of this shadow government, of top secret FBI blacksites. I woke up one morning next to my husband, a loving man who I believed was my whole world. Tom Keen, was his name, or at least that was the name I knew him by. I was late for my first day as a profiler, and I had just stepped in dog pee."
Ressler chuckles beside her, and holds her hand as she continues. She grins at him, and looks back at the camera.
"That was the beginning of my story. Of this story. I suppose you could say... once upon a time, I stepped outside of my house, and was greeted with a helicopter and an uptight FBI agent known as Donald Ressler. And that was the moment my life changed forever."
OMG, I could end it there. I could leave it up to everyone's imagination. THAT WOULD BE SUCH A COOL ENDING! But, alas, I have 2 more chapters planned. *sigh*
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